


Stop Dancing and Jump

by asexualshepard



Series: The Adventures of Brynja Cousland, Warden of Ferelden [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair Shoves His Foot Into His Mouth, Almost Kiss, Awkward Alistair, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Cute, F/M, Flirting, Idiots in Love, Laughter, Not Literally But You Know, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5018356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualshepard/pseuds/asexualshepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was music. Music and sunlight and—for some reason—it stole Bryn’s breath, just as she’d stolen his, she supposed, though in a different way. Bells and wind chimes ringing in her ears while he doubled over, his hands keeping his sides from jumping away. She’d never heard a sound quite like it. As she watched him, her eyes trying to memorize his movements and her ears listening closely to every wheeze that left his lips, she allowed her thoughts to poke around the corners of her mind, searching for whatever she’d said that had brought such sweet sounds out of his lungs.</p>
<p>Whatever it was, she wanted to say it again. And again. To never stop saying it. She wanted to listen to him laugh so openly for the rest of her life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop Dancing and Jump

It was music. Music and sunlight and—for some reason—it stole Bryn’s breath, just as she’d stolen his, she supposed, though in a different way. Bells and wind chimes ringing in her ears while he doubled over, his hands keeping his sides from jumping away. She’d never heard a sound quite like it. As she watched him, her eyes trying to memorize his movements and her ears listening closely to every wheeze that left his lips, she allowed her thoughts to poke around the corners of her mind, searching for whatever she’d said that had brought such sweet sounds out of his lungs.

Whatever it was, she wanted to say it again. And again. To never _stop_ saying it. She wanted to listen to him laugh so openly for the rest of her life.

But, of course, that was unreasonable. Even the most beautiful things end, and this perfect, pure sound was no different. Alistair stopped slowly, choking on air as it slowly filled his chest once more, his eyes watering and his shoulders bouncing. Even as he straightened, Bryn watched him, enraptured by the glow he left behind.

Deep breaths inflating his lungs, Alistair unfolded himself, his grin turned to her, his eyes still squinting slightly. For a few brief, warm moments, Bryn forgot the Blight, forgot all of the pain and sadness that sat in her gut as a constant reminder of the world around her.

Maker, she wanted to hear that sound again.

“What’s that _look_ for?” Though the grin still painted his lips, one of his eyebrows had risen.

Bryn blinked, her own smile refusing to dim. “What look?”

Alistair stepped closer to her. “That one,” he said, one finger coming up to tap the tip of her nose.

“That’s not a look, Alistair. That’s just my face.”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, “I’m _quite_ familiar with your face, and _that’s_ not it.”

Still—even as her cheeks tinged—her smile didn’t falter, and she raised her own eyebrow, mimicking him. It took a moment, but he soon realized exactly what he’d said, and Bryn took great pleasure in watching his face go bright red. His blush began to spread to the skin beneath his breastplate as he took a step back.

“Oh, ah, I didn’t mean—not that I pay any special _attention_ to your face, or anything… um…” He laughed anxiously, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “An entire foot—straight into my mouth.”

It was Bryn’s turn to laugh now. “An entire foot, indeed.”

Alistair’s face darkened. “Yes, well,” he started, swaying back and forth on his feet, “do a poor, idiotic man—with all manner of toes shoved into his mouth, mind you—do him a favor and tell him what that look was about?”

The innocent look on his bright red face as he glanced between her and the ground several times brought a certain kind of light to the air around them. She stepped closer to him and bumped her shoulder against his, bringing her face less than a foot from his chest. Her cheeks flushed as she smiled up at him.

“I’ve just never seen you laugh like that, is all.”

“Is that so?” Alistair mumbled, sidling even closer to her.

“It _is_ so,” Bryn responded. “It was nice. I’ll… strive to make it happen more often.”

The seconds stretched, both of them grinning like the idiots they no doubt were, both of them blushing and glancing at the other’s lips. They’d been dancing around moments like this for weeks. Trouble was that neither of them had the courage to _stop_ dancing, to jump.

But she wanted to. Maker, standing so close to him, she _wanted_ to. All she needed to do was take one step closer, to stand on her toes, and he’d be there. Maybe he’d lean down to make it easier for her. He was Alistair, of course he would—he’d probably pick her up, if she asked him to.

“Perhaps you should stop _gawking_ at each other, lest time keeps moving, no?”

And then there were several feet of space between the two Grey Wardens, their faces completely red as they refused to look at one another. An incredibly smug look fixed itself on Morrigan’s lips. Though Bryn refused to pull her eyes from the toes of her boots, Alistair was all too happy to turn a glare in the mage’s direction, attempting to look as ferocious as he could with a blush overwhelming his skin. His hard eyes followed her as she walked away, urging her to get out of earshot.

Finally, when Morrigan was back in her secluded area of the camp, Alistair turned his eyes back to Bryn, who hadn’t moved her own from her boots.

“So…” he muttered, swaying on his feet.

His awkwardness caused the blush on Bryn’s cheeks to spread down her neck, behind her ears. “I should, um…” She pulled her gaze from her boots, but still refused to turn it to Alistair. “Firewood. I’m gonna go find more firewood.”

“Yes! Yes. Good idea,” Alistair agreed, gesturing wildly with one of his hands. “I’ll go… start the stew?”

“Maybe _you_ should go get firewood.”

“You are a wise, wise woman.”

Their jesting seemed to clear the air a bit, and they soon found themselves smiling at each other once more, the bright red on their cheeks fading to a slight tint of pink. They were back to dancing, shuffling around one another as they had been for far too long.

“We should—”

“Before it gets too dark—”

“Exactly.”

And—after a final, slightly awkward moment—they both turned to attend to their individual tasks, frustrated sighs dripping from their tongues as they stepped in opposite directions.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started playing Origins again, and Alistair laughs really hard in some party banter with Zevran. It made me smile, so I thought it might make Bryn smile, too.
> 
> I'm honestly really proud of this piece, so thank you for taking the time to read it!


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